


Danse du Ventre

by KaenOkami



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Attempted Seduction, Based on a Tumblr Post, Belly Dancing, Childhood Memories, Dancing, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-23 15:15:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3773035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaenOkami/pseuds/KaenOkami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I think that if you insist on dressing like a belly dancer all the time, then it stands to reason that you give me at least one good show."</p><p>"Then I'll be sure to give you just that. I've been practicing. You just sit down and watch."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Danse du Ventre

**Author's Note:**

> Based on one of the more popular headcanons I posted on tumblr.

_“Dance is a vertical expression of a horizontal desire.”_

\- George Bernard Shaw

~0~

By all standards, it was an excellent party. Not all that different from most of the others that the emperor was fond of throwing on a whim, but excellent nonetheless. Torches bathed the royal gardens in a rich amber glow; drums and stringed instruments kept up a lively beat in the background; dozens upon dozens of nobles laughed, chattered, and feasted on a seemingly endless bounty of rich food; and in the center of at all a hired troupe of dancers filled a makeshift stage, clad in pale gauzy dresses and smiling coyly at the watching partygoers. (Most likely, dancing wasn’t the only thing some of them would do that night). One would readily put it on the level of a Sindrian _maharajan._

Ren Hakuryuu wanted no part of it. 

The fourth prince glared at the proceedings from the outskirts of the crowd, just out of reach of the torchlight. He remembered attending parties like this one (albeit not quite so overblown and frivolous, but held only in celebration of significant conquests) as a child, before the night of the fire. He remembered being overly excited at all the activity, his father smiling and lifting his youngest child up onto his shoulders so he could properly see everything, the two of them laughing at poor Hakuyuu having to spend half the night chasing Hakuren (who flat-out refused to accept the fact that he was a lightweight) away from the sake table. Sometimes, he remembered, his mother and father would dance together - not in the energetic and unrestrained way the other dancers did, but closely, intimately, like any loving couple would do. Back then, he and his siblings had watched happily, able to mistake their parents for just that. Back then, diversions like this had made him laugh cheerfully all night. 

Now, over ten years later and knowing much better, all this did was turn his stomach, the feast bland and the sake sour on his tongue. Now the stakes had been raised for the whole empire, the situation grew more dire each day as al-Thamen grew stronger, and the only thing on Koutoku’s mind was indulging himself and his court? Pathetic. 

He had only come in the first place to please Hakuei - his sister was of the opinion that he was working himself too hard and needed a break from his training - but he had barely seen her since they’d arrived, as she was occupied with another prince. The sight of her dragging Kouen off into the shadows of the royal orchards, from which the pair had yet to emerge, had made him bristle like an angry dog, and the idea of following them in there and beating his older cousin into submission had merits. But if Hakuei, at least, was happy, then he supposed he could leave them alone. As thoroughly annoyed as he was, though, it would probably only take one more provocative thing to push him past his limits -

“Hakuryuu...?”

Oh, gods. There it was.

Gyokuen smiled at the barely veiled frustration on her son’s face, which was determinedly turned away from her. “Hakuryuu, aren’t you having any fun? Your uncle is holding these festivities for your sake, after all.”

He had to keep back a snort of derision. His imminent departure to Sindria was just an excuse, not a genuine reason, to throw this party; the only thing Koutoku would be happy to hold specially for his only living nephew was a funeral. “I’m fine,” he growled from between clenched teeth, trying to convey through tone and body language _‘get the hell away from me, witch’_ as much as was publically acceptable.

“Oh, Hakuryuu,” she lilted, amused. “Don’t try to lie to your mother. Come now, relax and enjoy yourself...”

The second he felt her smooth, cool fingertips touch his scarred cheek, he couldn’t help it - he reflexively recoiled, as if from a venomous snake. “I’m _fine,”_ he insisted, turning on his heel and heading off away from this place, away from _her._ “I have to go, I...I need some privacy.”

Behind him, he heard her laugh, softly and infuriatingly, but thankfully she made no move to follow him. As he stalked through the deserted halls of the palace - intent on going straight to his bedroom, hitting his pillows a few times, and just going to sleep - what few servants and courtiers remained away from the party steered clear of the fuming young prince. It was a wise decision on their part. His anger had mounted so dangerously high that when he felt a hand suddenly touch his arm, he very nearly spun around and punched its owner. 

“What do you w - Judal?!”

The Magi grinned impishly from the small, shadowy side hall. “You shouldn’t treat your friends so rudely, Hakuryuu. For you, those are in short supply, aren’t they?”

Hakuryuu gritted his teeth. “Why are you here annoying me instead of off at the party like everybody else? You know, they have peach dumplings there. _Momo kibi dango._ And peach wine, too, go drink a barrel of that. It would give me a laugh, at least; I hear you’re hilarious when you’re smashed.”

“Oh, I can give you much more than that. You see, I noticed that you were the only one who wasn’t enjoying yourself at that stupid party, so I decided we should do something that you could _really_ enjoy.” 

“Like what?” challenged Hakuryuu. 

“Come with me and you’ll find out,” Judal said, gesturing for Hakuryuu to follow him as he started back down the darkened hallway. As he turned, Hakuryuu saw light briefly glint off of a bronze metal circle on one of his fingers.

“Judal, why are you wearing zills?”

“I refer you to my previous statement - _come on,_ you stubborn prince.”

Hakuryuu had to admit, he was a little curious, and it wasn’t as if he had anything better to do tonight. (And if he was really being honest with himself, he’d rather spend the night with Judal than with anyone else at that party). So he followed Judal down the corridors, and within a couple minutes they had reached one of the rooms he recognized as being specially intended for use by the royal courtesans and anyone who desired them. “Judal, I’m not in the mood right now.”

“That’s fine,” said Judal, pushing open the door to reveal a warm candlelit room, large and circular, that smelled faintly of spice and perfumes. The soft and puffy couches, chairs, and cushions that furnished it had been pushed to the edges of the room to clear a large space in the middle. “If I’m doing this right, you’ll be in the mood by the time I’m done.”

As they stepped inside, Hakuryuu was just about to retort, when he got his first full look at Judal in the light and did a double take. “What the - What the hell are you wearing?!”

Judal grinned over his shoulder at the shocked prince, who was openly gaping at the shimmering dark silks and clinking gold jewelry (much more elegant than usual) that the Magi had decked himself out in. “Those whores out there are cheap and common. And maybe that’s enough to satisfy the pig emperor, but I think that you deserve something more, don’t you?”

“I...” Hakuryuu realized that his jaw had dropped and quickly snapped it shut as the shock passed and reason returned. “I think that if you insist on dressing like a belly dancer all the time, then it stands to reason that you give me at least one good show.”

At that, Judal let out a loud laugh, so devoid of malice and full of genuine amusement that Hakuryuu couldn’t hold back a small smile. “Then I’ll be sure to give you just that,” the Magi promised. “I’ve been practicing. You just sit down and watch.”

Obligingly, Hakuryuu sat cross-legged on a long, plush crimson cushion and watched expectantly while Judal moved to the center of the room and began his dance.

His chosen routine, Hakuryuu observed, was similar to those of dancers he had seen before, but the Magi’s skills far exceeded theirs: he really had been practicing specially for Hakuryuu, then. (How long had he been planning to do this, Hakuryuu wondered?) Judal’s movements possessed a natural, fluid grace that they lacked, and unlike them Hakuryuu could be certain that he actually cared about what he was doing and who he was doing it for. He kept on grinning slyly at Hakuryuu every time their eyes met, knowing full well what he was making the prince feel with every sinuous, deliberate motion. 

His silk-wrapped hips lifted and rocked, and Hakuryuu’s heart began to beat faster. His midsection turned and gyrated, showing off every inch of the lean, toned muscles, and Hakuryuu couldn’t have pulled his eyes away even if he wanted to. He did backbends and shimmies, moved so the golden light of the candles and the shadows they made dappled his pale skin, clicked the zills on his fingers, and let his bangles and necklaces jingle and ring to the fast-paced rhythm of the strings and the _taiko_ drums that they could still hear the faint strains of from outside, and Hakuryuu knew for certain that he had never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

Not that he would ever freely admit that to Judal, of course, but the point still stood.

For the next five minutes or so, the young Magi kept dancing with everything he had, while Hakuryuu looked on appreciatively. So absorbed was he in watching the performance that it took him a minute to register his pants growing tighter with every move Judal made. When Judal noticed the other’s arousal as well, he smirked, and slid up to Hakuryuu, kneeling almost in his lap. “So, you like my dancing, then?” He ran a hand delicately up the prince’s inner thigh, resting it on his hip. “Am I allowed to please my liege a little further?”

In response, Hakuryuu took hold of Judal’s upper arms, pushing him down onto the cushion and moving to straddle the Magi’s hips. “Ah,” Judal laughed. “That’s a yes, then?”

Hakuryuu smiled. “Let me put it this way - remember what we said before about the mood?” he said, sliding the smooth silk off of Judal’s shoulders.

“Oh, ye - “ 

He didn’t even get the full syllable out before Hakuryuu was pressing his lips against Judal’s, and starting to ease the older boy’s pants off. Merely saying _‘thank you, that was nice’_ would probably only get him made fun of, Hakuryuu reasoned, and in any case Judal deserved a more enjoyable expression of his gratitude. He had earned it, after all, for salvaging what would have otherwise been a miserable night.

**Author's Note:**

> I was tempted to add another scene where Kouen and Hakuei walk in on them (intending to use the room for pretty much the same thing) and things get really awkward and Hakuryuu’s raging my-sister-is-off-limits instincts flare up, but I thought just ending it here was better. :)


End file.
